Apple of the Eye

Summary

Ben's passion is art, tattoos specifically. He's the type that runs through women like a chain smoker runs through cigarettes, the latter of which he is also guilty of. Teenagers irritate the hell out of him, all except his little brother and his brother's best friend. This doesn't change when he meets William Moore, who irritates him more than any kid he's ever met in his life, but oddly enough he finds himself spending as much time as possible around him and trying to figure him out. Will doesn't seem to have a care in the word, is a bit eccentric, and is full of energy. He doesn't seem to know the difference between people his age and those older than him, and will say just about anything to anyone. After meeting Benjamin Jenkins, though, he finds himself almost watching what he says and caring about how his actions and words effect his new acquaintance. He finds himself being genuinely sweet for the first time in his life.

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Apple of the Eye - Remy Quigley

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Part 2

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Sounds of the Soul - Part 1

Chapter 1:

Ben

Ben’s eyes snapped open for the fifth time in an hour, his gaze latching onto the poster covered ceiling above his head. All of his favorite bands and solo artists were up there; Black Sabbath, Arctic Monkeys, Phil Collins, Rob Zombie, and Biggie Smalls. There were no posters or pictures on the walls of Ben Jenkins’ room, only the ceiling. His walls were spray painted by his little brother’s best friend during the first week that he moved into the quaint living space above his tattoo shop. The only pictures in his room were taped onto random places, like the one of him and his brother in the top hand corner of his widescreen, two of him and his best friend on the window frame, some of him with customers on the front of one of the drawers on his dresser, etc.

Ben stared at a strip of white ceiling in between two of the posters for a few moments before he sat up in his bed and glanced at the clock on his night table. He sighed with a mixture of agitation and relief when he saw what it read, 4:53. With this, he accepted that he would receive not an ounce of sleep before he had to help Harry open the shop at nine o’clock. If he did manage to fall asleep in the next ten or twenty minutes, he would be groggy and irritable when his alarm clock woke him at 8:15, if it managed to wake him up at all.

He pushed himself out of bed, stretched until he felt those satisfying back cracks he’d been waiting for, and then snatched his cigarettes and lighter from the shelf beneath his widescreen. After nearly four hours of lying sleepless in bed, Ben was ready for a smoke and something to look at.

He stepped through the solo door that led to the small balcony of the second floor. He had a couple of pots out there, filled with nothing but hard soil, because he’d failed to remember to bring in his plants before the weather got cold. Two striped beach chairs sat opposite one another at the sides of the balcony. Harry and Ben usually sat in these during the warmer parts of the year, watching cars roll by and people make their way down the sidewalks. Twice, they’d been lucky enough to witness arrests.

Ben sucked in a satisfied breath when the cold air hit him upon stepping out. He was wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants; a state which would’ve caused most people to rush back inside for a T shirt and a hoody, but only made Ben more comfortable than he’d been inside. The cold air fought off the near exhausted, somewhat dreamy state he’d been in after opening his eyes to the ceiling and accepting that he wasn’t going to get any sleep. It made him feel revived, ready for the weary day ahead.

He stretched out on one of the beach chairs, took one of his cigarettes out of their pack, and lit it up. He could’ve described the first puff as near orgasmic, staving off the hours that he’d lain there restlessly waiting to fall asleep. Ben knew that his active, almost jittery way was a large part of his sleeping problem, but he’d gotten the hang of staying awake for two or three days, so he didn’t really think about it anymore.

Ben puffed on his smoke, his eyes on the street below him, and thought about the touches of detail that he wanted to add to a bible scripture tattoo he’d be doing in six hours. Gotta make sure the snake’s rattle is perfect. It’s gotta be bright lime green and scratchy looking, like a sketch…

His thoughts trailed off as his attention was averted to a singing voice. Ben leaned forward in his seat as he listened, his gaze searching the sidewalk for the one singing. I know that song. If I could just think of the name…

"I can’t remember if I cried, when I… read about his widowed bride. But something touched me deep inside, the day… the music died. So bye, bye Miss American Pie. Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry…"

Don McLean, duh, Ben rolled his eyes at himself. Finally, his gaze found the singer. Ben leaned farther forward without thinking, even sliding forward a bit in his seat, until his arms settled comfortably on the balcony’s metal rails. He rested his chin on them as he watched the young man walk and sing. He was on the other side of the street, his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyes closed, and his lips moving with a familiar ease to the lyrics. He couldn’t have been any older than sixteen or seventeen, Ben decided almost immediately. There was nothing but peach fuzz on his high boned cheeks and his features were youthful, in their last mile of fully maturing. The skin under his eyes was lineless, a trait that always made Ben immediately think, 'That’s somebody that sleeps well, they get their eight hours.'.

The singer's mouth was bottom heavy and pouty, though every time his lips met he pulled the bottom one in farther than it needed to go, as if he was catching it with his teeth every time. His reddish brown hair was long enough that he’d tied it in a thick, messy tail at the nape of his neck. It wasn’t frizzy or curly, but straight and thick, so that it formed into wavy locks halfway down that stopped several inches past his shoulders. He wore a Miami Dolphins sweatshirt that looked to be two sizes too big for him by the size of his legs, though his jeans were a bit baggy too, so it was hard to tell. On his feet were a sadly worn pair of house slippers.

That last part caused Ben’s eyebrows to short up. House slippers? Well, hell, it is almost five in the morning and this guy is just strolling down the street singing. Must be a weirdo, but he still looks good… Ben blinked twice at the thought as he eyes followed the singing stranger. He let it drift away quickly though, as he did with most of the thoughts not pertaining to work that passed through his head when he was sleep deprived.

Opting to not watch the strange kid anymore, Ben slouched back in the beach chair to finish his cigarette. By the time the cigarette was gone, he was murmuring the rest of the song in his head. He sang it softly to himself as he went back inside, grabbed a towel out of his closet, and headed to the bathroom next to his room.

Will

Come over here and say that, bitch. Avery said venomously, gesturing for Will to get up and come over to him.

Will grinned before taking a drag from the joint he held in between his fingers and passing it to Jared. Will and his four best friends sat in an alleyway in between a special of the day restaurant and a salon, Will and Jared sitting with their backs to the salon and Avery and Vincent sitting across from them. They’d opted to spend the day at the arcade and strolling around town instead of going to school, a decision that they made too often. By the time they decided to smoke the joint Will brought, it was already a little after noon.

He stood after passing the joint off, cracked his knuckles, and went to stand right in front of Avery. He set his hands on his knees after stopping, leaned forward over Avery, and flashed him a taunting smile before saying, Your girlfriend’s got the scariest underbite I’ve ever seen.

Avery glared at him and lifted a fist threateningly. If you weren’t my best friend, I’d beat you to a pulp.

Jesus, Avery. Jared started with a shake of his head as he blew smoke from his nose. Pot’s supposed to make you feel peaceful, ya know?

Avery never feels peaceful. Vincent said as he crawled forward a foot to take the joint from Jared.

Yeah, why’re you always so angry, Ave? Will asked, kicking Avery playfully in the calf before returning to his spot beside Jared.

Avery shrugged, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. Probably because I spend too much time with you assholes.

Will burst into laughter and the others quickly joined. When it died down, Will said, My roses are lookin’ perfect. I’ll give you one for Jamie tomorrow, Vinnie.

Thanks, man. I wish I had the money to get her somethin’ nice, but I figure a rose will make her happy anyway.

Will nodded happily, pleased that his hobby was useful to others, before pulling his pack of smokes from the front pocket of his flannel shirt and lighting one up. Oh, do you guys remember hearing Ralph talk about getting his tat? They all nodded. Well, I’ve decided I’m gonna try it, too.

His friends were silent for a moment and then Avery said through a chuckle, Will, Ralph looks like he’s in his twenties, but you look like you’re about fifteen. There’s no way a tattoo artist is gonna fall for it if you lie.

Yeah, but I’ve got a fake ID, so it doesn’t matter how old I look.

They’ll know it’s fake, just like the cashiers at the Short Snout. Jared said, and he and Avery exchanged nods of agreement.

Will stuck his tongue out at them. Don’t care. Gonna try anyway.

Hmm. Well, it’s not like you’ll go to jail. They’ll just turn you out. Vincent said thoughtfully.

Exactly. And if they do fall for it, I get my first tattoo. Will agreed enthusiastically before standing up and dusting off his jeans. You guys wanna come with?

Wait, you’re gonna do it now? Jared started, still seated like the other two.

Will shrugged, grinning to himself at the idea. Why not?

What’re you gonna get if it works? Vincent asked as he pulled his pack of menthols out and passed one to Vincent.

Will shrugged again before taking a few steps towards the entrance of the alley. Dunno. Guess I’ll look through what they’ve got.

You shouldn’t do that, Will. I mean, shouldn’t it be meaningful if it’s gonna be on you for the rest of your life? Jared started in a tone of disapproval; he had the most sense out of the whole group and was always lecturing them when they made bad choices.

It’ll be meaningful. I just gotta find the right one… Will started off at a steady pace, but stopped when Avery called to him.

Wait. I’ll come with you. See you guys later.

Will waited for Avery and then they left the alley side by side, both with one hand in a pocket and the other holding a cigarette. Will was the second tallest of the group, with Avery beating him by an inch and a half at 6’2. Avery’s angry and brooding personality was reflected in the clothes he wore and the way he kept his hair. He wore mostly black all the time, with a heavy chain dangling from his belt loop and the wallet in his pocket, and heavy black boots that used to belong to his dad. He already had a tattoo that he’d gotten during a family vacation to California; it was a snake-like dragon wrapped around his left forearm. He kept his black hair in a short, thick mohawk, and the thin shadow of hair on the right side of his head shaved to look like a demon’s face.

So, which one do you wanna go to first? Avery asked, while following a frilly skirt with his eyes as it passed by them.

We can just go into the first one we pass by. Will replied in a zoned out tone before asking, Did I tell you about the chess game I played with Pete during lunch yesterday? Avery shook his head and Will continued, his tone thick with energetic conviction. "That shithead beat me in five moves. Can you believe it? I think that whole ‘tools missing from the shed’ thing he’s got going on is an act. I mean, if he’s really that air headed, how the fuck did he beat me in five moves?! I mean, I’m pretty damn good, don’t you think?"

Will waved that off irritably. Doesn’t count. That old man’s been playing chess his whole life and I’ve only been playing for a couple of years. Pete’s probably been playing since he was in diapers. Yep, that’s gotta be it. Practice makes perfect, that’s all it is. There’s no way Pete’s actually smart.

Look, there’s one. Avery started, pointing at a tattoo shop across the street from them.

"The Sharpened Pencil… Wonder why it’s called that."

Dunno. But I heard from my sister’s husband that they're pretty good.

Cool. Let’s check it out.

Avery nodded and they started across the street. They paused at the black metal door, their eyes latching onto the paper sign on the window that said, Persons under eighteen are not permitted to enter. They glanced briefly at each other before Will swung the door open easily and held it for Avery to step in first. Two of the small desk spaces on the left side of the shop were being used, one of them by a woman getting a tattoo on the top of her left breast. She’d taken her shirt off and tied it around her chest like a makeshift bikini top. She glanced up at Will and Avery as they walked passed, noting that their eyes were glued to her boobs, and smiled at them. Will grinned, twiddling his fingers at her, while Avery blushed and quickly looked away. Avery was, oddly enough with his abrasive personality, shy around girls.